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Every day has a victor.
whether or not the victor of days past has been you is irrelevant now
because i have seen it.
today is yours.

nobody else knows it yet,
because you have to show them.
you must fight for your victories, as with everything else
and you have a reason to
because today is yours.

they will try to take it from you
you will be oppressed with the mundane
but look to the horizon and see your crest
flying atop the banner of the sunset.

forget your undoing. you are invincible.
fight for it. thirst for it.
i can see it in you.
this day is yours.
Most days, I am still a human being
Complete with a growing body
A growing mind
And two left feet

Most days, if feels like a good fit
I have learned to use these legs
To take purposeful steps,
Long and leading

Sometimes, I fall flat on my face with flair
For me, to be human is to be clumsy
But it also learning how to make peace

Walking down the street
I count the pairs of eyes that turn to meet mine
And see that they are few and far between
To be human is to be afraid of other humans

And that reality has never sat well in my stomach,
It aches anvils in the bottom of my belly
Bends bright light into muted hues
Happiness is reaching

But my arms are long limbs
And growing all the time

At the ends are these hands;
Meant to hammer or to hold
Being human begs a balance
But the scale tips too often
And our fingers close to clench

Letting go is never easy
But I have learned that breaking
Never brings resolution

Too many humans have never learned that truth
They don’t see that no one’s temple was built to conquer
Anger is a heavy load that no back was meant to bear
And that an empty hand was made for waving
But when holding a gun, it gains new meaning
And bullets weren’t forged to give good greetings
Our bodies were never built to be bombs.
And they would know that if they listened
To their own hearts just beating,
More times in a single day than all the hateful words
I could ever think to say.

And I admit my own mind wasn’t created
To comprehend codes or complex mathematics
But I am blessed with an understanding of basic equations:

One ear plus one ear means that I should always be listening
Add 28 teeth, a tongue plus a voice and there is never a reason for me
Not to say how I’m feeling
Two lips plus two lips
Sometimes equals a kiss
And when it doesn’t,
X amount of sadness plus
Y number of friends means no one ever has to truly be alone

Being human can be beautiful if you don’t let it break you.
Even when it does

Most days I am human
But there are mornings I wake up
Feeling like so much less
On the days when my genetics take the turn to depression
And simple mathematics feels too complex to comprehend,
Even on these days, I can defer
To the most basic lesson in anatomy;

Our bodies are not accidents
We have been put together perfectly
To perpetuate existence peacefully as possible

And all the pieces have already fallen into place
All that is left
Is to live.
I don’t know how to meet people
I mean, how do you just walk up
To someone you don’t know at all

What if they ignore my greeting?
What if they look at me funny?
What if they become angry, right?

That person could be important
In charge of a huge company
Or own a major football team

Chances are they’re way too busy
For someone as small as I am
I just can’t handle rejection

Then one afternoon in a store
A salesman walked right up to me
He said “Hi!’ and then shook my hand

The salesman didn’t have a clue
Of how I would respond to him
And then it settled on me like

An elephant waiting for food
That’s the best way to meet people
Say “Hi!” and leave the rest to them
Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
'I'll do a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use,
2B or not 2B?'
Me
Born screaming small into this world-
Living I am.
Occupational therapy twixt birth and death-
What was I before?
What will I be next?
What am I now?
Cruel answer carried in the jesting mind
of a careless God
I will not bend and grovel
When I die. If He says my sins are myriad
I will ask why He made me so imperfect
And he will say 'My chisels were blunt'
I will say 'Then why did you make so
many of me'.
Some days I am so
comfortable I simply
can't ******* stand it.
Poetry, like many other spiritual experiences, should comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.
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